Memories of my melancholy whores

Paranoia, perfume,
dance, dance, dance.
No escape, a wild sheep chase:
eleven minutes, possessed
pawns of chaos- roll over and play dead.
Other voices, other rooms-
fifty shades of grey after dark.
Rising sun, red sky in the morning:
sing to the dawn – afterglow east of eden.
Midnight’s children, open your eyes-
we are the living glass geishas.

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